


such unimaginable things

by varthandi



Series: a sky full of song [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Requited Unrequited Love, Sad Ending, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varthandi/pseuds/varthandi
Summary: Roman just needed some space. Janus gave him all he had.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: a sky full of song [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945960
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	such unimaginable things

"I'm here to apologize."

Roman glared hard at ~~Jan-~~ _Deceit_ , ignoring Patton's traitorous presence beside the slimy serpent.

"Save it. I’m not interested in hearing it."

~~Ja-~~ _Deceit's_ crestfallen face tugged at his heart for only a moment before he steeled himself. In time, Roman ~~would~~ _might_ bring himself to forgive him, but he wasn't feeling very forgiving towards anyone lately.

"Roman-" The prince's sharp scowl stopped Patton from continuing.

"Are we done here? Unlike some of us, I have work to be doing and I _totally_ have time to waste on apologies from people I don't want to see." He hoped Deceit could taste the bitter lies. He hoped they stung. ~~He hoped he couldn't tell which one it was~~.

If they did, the yellow side didn't show it. Instead, he asked, "What can I do to earn your forgiveness?" _To earn back your love?_

There was something to his voice in the way he said it. Quiet. Vulnerable. Desperate, even.

Roman almost broke, but didn't. He wanted so much to pull the serpentine side into his arms and never let go, to kiss away the frown on his lips and the watery sheen in his eyes, to finally declare to him and all the world that he loved him, and at last openly accept all that silent, overflowing adoration he could sense so constantly from him.

But he couldn't. Not right now.

"Nothing," he said. "Just... leave me alone."

Patton put a hand on Deceit's shoulder and said something about waiting for another time. Deceit stared despondently into Roman's determined eyes before he turned toward the moral side and nodded. Roman's fists clenched tighter. No. No matter his unspoken feelings, ~~or Janus's~~ , he had to stand by his convictions. Why should he feel possessive or jealous over him when they had no real relationship beyond furtive glances, longing gazes, and lingering stares? (Even if Roman could practically _feel_ their combined romantic emotions rolling off of both of them in ever-increasing waves.)

They left.

Roman stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He stood there, unsure where to look or what to do.

He spotted something yellow, buried underneath the disorganized heap of abandoned and discarded art projects that he hadn't yet had the heart to get rid of. Roughly fishing it out, a corner of it messily tore off as it caught on something else. He gingerly held the torn piece in place and gave it a good look.

It was an unfinished watercolor painting of some red-and-white striped roses laying alongside some nemophilas, with a fluffy bumblebee resting on one of the latter’s petals. He'd already painted in the bee and the baby blue petals when he suddenly realized he hated it, so he’d tossed it aside and ultimately forgot it as more and more of his unsatisfactory work piled up on top of it.

Roman was staring, mind adrift, at the mangled tatters of it clutched in his fists before he realized he'd shredded it, his fat, wet teardrops splattering and soaking into the torn scraps as they fell from his eyes.

He plodded over to his desk and laid the pieces down gently, flattening the creases and puzzling them together into a broken approximation of what it once was.

He pulled out a new, crisp sheet of watercolor paper, his favorite pens, and his very finest paints, and set to recreate the piece.

A sudden, inexplicable sense of dread caused him to pause mid-stroke. A drop of scarlet splattered onto the bee, which Roman hurriedly wiped away before it soaked into the paper. It didn’t, but the bee now had a slight orange tinge. It looked fine, so he continued, ignoring the escalating feeling of something being missing until he finished.

Hours later, he put down his brush. The new painting was similar, but not the same. The flowers were better rendered, the lines more confident and sure, the ink darker and richer, the watercolor more vibrant. The bee, however, was now nestled among the striped petals of the rose. 

He considered his art for a few minutes. It still felt incomplete. He was missing something.

Without really thinking about it, he allowed his instinct to guide his hand, drawing out in looping curls some of the finest calligraphy he’d ever done.

> _For my beloved Janus_

Roman realized he was smiling, but also tearing up again. He rubbed at his heart. Something was missing, still.

Then came a knock on his door.

It wasn't typical for anyone to knock. Roman left his door unlocked to let the other sides simply walk in or, in Remus's case, barge in unannounced. Virgil knocked, but his was much more hesitant and shy, not crisp and solid as this one was, and he had graduated to knocking and then letting himself in a few months after he was accepted.

Janus had never visited Roman personally. Not before that morning, and Patton had knocked then, a rapid, fluttering knock, greeting Roman with a sad smile before letting the other side take the stage.

Roman almost fell over himself scrambling to get to the door, yanking it open, his heart hammering in his ears as it pumped pure hope into his veins.

It was Remus.

Roman tried not to let his disappointment show as his smile faltered. (When did he start smiling again?)

Wait.

Remus never knocked.

"Hey," Remus said. He looked unblinkingly into Roman's eyes, some strange, unidentifiable emotion brewing behind his crimson irises. He let out a breath, looking away.

"I don't know how to tell you all nice-like and shit, but… he's gone."

Roman blinked, not understanding. "Who's gone?"

Remus just gave him a look. He seemed almost... sad? Roman almost wished ~~Jan-~~ _Deceit_ was here to translate his brother's unusual moodiness. No one really _got_ Remus, save him. Roman supposed he could understand how the _snack mamba_ might learn to tolerate his brother since they were both Dark Sides for so long, but _best friends_? He didn't understand it, and probably never would.

Remus continued without answering. "Patton's pretty torn up about it, y'know. Probably thought he coulda stopped it. If _I_ knew what he was planning, I would have stopped him. I know you would've, too.”

Roman had no idea what he was talking about. The strange sensation in his heart grew heavy with unfathomable loss.

His brother paused for a moment, chewing on his words, then said, “It's not your fault."

Wait, what?

Remus held out a pale yellow envelope.

"He left this for you," he said somberly and far too softly for his usual self. Roman took it, half-aware of what he was doing, focused as he was on the dark, watery eyes of his brother. "I'm sorry, Ro."

Remus gave him one last despairing look, then turned around and left.

Roman stared at the envelope for a full minute before he went into autopilot, breaking the seal carefully - absently noting the gorgeous floral design impressed into the lovely honey-gold wax - and pulled out the letter. There was a single, fresh rose petal, striped red-and-white, tucked inside the folded paper, smelling of sweetness and spice. The note read, in Janus's graceful cursive lettering:

> ##  _As you wish._

And below it, in smaller writing:

> _I'm sorry._  
>  _I love you._

No.

_No._

For the second time that day, Roman found himself weeping over a piece of paper.

Roman stepped into his room, barely registering the door shutting behind him.

He leaned back against it, sliding into a heap on the floor, clutching the letter to his heart, shoulders trembling violently as he sobbed silently. How had everything turned out so badly?

Janus.

Janus was _gone_.

_Forever_.

Roman had been planning to confess after the wedding. First, he would apologize, and explain that he'd done what Thomas would have done anyway, because it was the right thing to do. And, in this imagined conversation, Janus would have agreed and said something along the lines of, "You did what you thought was best, and however it turned out, you did well," and then Roman would declare his love, which he knew for a fact that Janus reciprocated, and then they would embrace and kiss and become the most sickeningly-sweet lovers in the mindscape. But instead…

This was all his fault, wasn't it? If only he had chosen the callback, if only he had let Janus say his piece about mental health without kicking up such a fuss, if only he had more gracefully responded to the reveal of his name, his wonderful, beautiful, perfect name that Roman never deserved to know, let alone speak, not after _this_.

If only he'd explained what he had meant by "nothing" and “leave me alone”.

Because Janus didn't _need_ to do anything more for Roman to forgive him after he apologized. Because Roman knew he _would_ forgive him, eventually. He just needed time. He thought Janus understood.

But he hadn’t.

And now he never would.

Roman cried.

**Author's Note:**

> I got yelled at for writing this 😂  
> Sorry, Mim 😎


End file.
